Tonight, I sit at my desk as I usually do, writing under the velvety 6 p.m. sky with my lavender candle and its flickering flame.
But tomorrow — tomorrow, I begin a new chapter of my life. I begin my internship. I begin doing the work I was meant to do in counseling youngsters who are struggling.
It’s equal parts scary and exciting.
The dried ink of all the versions of myself I’ve been—all the things I’ve failed at to get here, all the wounds I’ve tried to run away from and then begrudgingly faced—it pulses, then dissolves, in a final display of color. I blow it away with my dragon’s breath like ash.
There is newness in the air.
First, there is a lot of training, orientation, and paperwork—oh, so much paperwork!—to get through.
But I feel change.
I feel it stirring.
I feel a new adventure, uncurling its pages.
And there is nothing better than a fresh page—it tastes like tenderness.
And joy
And looking fear straight in the face
And breathing
And knowing
I will do this.
It’s like winter meeting spring
When the fire and blustery winds take hold
And buds bloom
There is no question
They bloom
Because that is simply what they are meant to do.
And I have prepared for this blooming
For so damn long
I thought I’d never get here.
I was exhausted of stagnation
And not being me
And not being led by my heart:
The passion to help others that stirs me
Every day
To wake up
And care.
To stand for something that is written humbly in my heart.
Because I believe we can heal
I believe it, even in the throes of brokenness, pain, and despair.
I believe it with every fiber of my being.
Tears fall now
Rains for those eager buds
I am meant for this.
So I leap. I take the risk to bloom.
For once in my life, I simply trust.
And this new adventure calls—its song is melodious, gritty, and begs for my compassion. It reaches out and grabs my chest with tendrils of crisp, lime-green stems.
I answer with curiosity. With hope. With butterflies in my stomach and slightly shaky hands.
I answer with joy. With the complete and utter gratitude that I get to do this.
And this adventure fuels me—
It will bring fresh challenge.
It will bring absolute delight.
I will make it all count.
Thank you.
That’s what I feel.
Thank you.
I bow before the velvety 6 p.m. sky, with the complete and utter gratitude that I get to do this. Yes. I exhale with a small flutter of surprise and the deep, booming satisfaction that I made this happen.
Sure, counseling kiddos who are having a tough time might not seem like a huge or flashy dream to a lot of folks out there, but it feels incredible to me.
I get to provide support and care. I get to create change. I get to be a part of something bigger than me.
And honestly, this makes me feel more alive, more energized than ever.
Because when we follow the call that has whispered to us since forever, magic happens. Real magic.
Don’t sit on your dreams for a moment more.
Don’t be a passive victim in a life of stagnation.
Go out, go within
And make it happen.
It doesn’t have to be big or sparkly. It doesn’t have to be extremely difficult or elegant. It doesn’t have to be anything for anyone else.
What calls to you?
I know you hear something stirring in your bones, waking up after centuries of slumber.
Listen.
And then listen some more.
I hope it’s a ridiculously beautiful dream. I hope it makes no sense to anyone but you. I hope it feels just right in your gut.
I hope it brings you to tears, because you are remembering
Who you are
And what you are meant to do.
I hope you fight for this dream. I hope you fight hard.
I hope you devote to it, like a steady and gracious lover.
I hope you water it.
And you know what?
I bet you will greet each day with passion in your heart—to wake up and care.
I bet you will feel more alive than ever.
I bet you will make the world a more beautiful place.
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